γ silence is yujin's answer, and silence may have been all he received. until, eyes fixed unseeing in the distance, the terrible confession issues between her lips. γ
Day after day, I looked out from the city walls, hoping to find among the multitude the familiar faces of my brothers. We were born together: two brothers and two sisters. So much of their life passed in defense of me, wretched sister that I am. And each day that I could not descry them I wondered why. Why do they not come when I need them most.
γ her face falls. her breath shudders. γ
Here, I learned they could not. For the earth had covered them ten years past. γ the cruelty is she never knew. γ
Ten years past... [Yujin repeats. Echoing those words, inconceivable as they are, is all he can think to do. To have lost her flesh and blood is injury enough, but to have done so unknowingly-- for ten years?
He holds his years of grief close. The pain, though dulled now, is its own memorial to the people he's loved and lost more than a decade ago now. Being robbed of those is unthinkable to him. Immediately, that pang of sympathy for her deepens.
Yujin rests a gentle hand upon her arm. First:] I'm sorry, Helen. You deserved to have known far sooner.
[And after a moment to let those words rest:] Would you like to do something, in their memory?
γ her eyes slant to the touch on her arm. overly familiar, presumptuous…and a kindness she has scarcely received in the past decade. she wants to slap him away; she wants to take his hand.
in the end, helen does neither. drawing her veil closer around her, she draws in another trembling breath. γ
I must. Far as I am, the proper rites must be observed.
γ there will be games, a sacrifice. there will be wine and stories. her brothers' names will be known and remembered. but tonight…tonight—
her voice breaks. γ Is it selfishness to wish this night to only mourn?
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[And an all too familiar one, he is loath to admit.]
I would happily listen. If you cared to speak, of course...
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Day after day, I looked out from the city walls, hoping to find among the multitude the familiar faces of my brothers. We were born together: two brothers and two sisters. So much of their life passed in defense of me, wretched sister that I am. And each day that I could not descry them I wondered why. Why do they not come when I need them most.
γ her face falls. her breath shudders. γ
Here, I learned they could not. For the earth had covered them ten years past. γ the cruelty is she never knew. γ
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He holds his years of grief close. The pain, though dulled now, is its own memorial to the people he's loved and lost more than a decade ago now. Being robbed of those is unthinkable to him. Immediately, that pang of sympathy for her deepens.
Yujin rests a gentle hand upon her arm. First:] I'm sorry, Helen. You deserved to have known far sooner.
[And after a moment to let those words rest:] Would you like to do something, in their memory?
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in the end, helen does neither. drawing her veil closer around her, she draws in another trembling breath. γ
I must. Far as I am, the proper rites must be observed.
γ there will be games, a sacrifice. there will be wine and stories. her brothers' names will be known and remembered. but tonight…tonight—
her voice breaks. γ Is it selfishness to wish this night to only mourn?